


Heavy Metal

by WhatHaveWeDone



Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHaveWeDone/pseuds/WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: A slight ammendment to the episode 'Heavy Metal', because why introduce a random space station when you have a perfectly good one to hand? Kept as close to the episode as possible for funsies.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Heavy Metal

“Thunderbird 5 please re-run the gravitational scan,” Brains called up, and John glided over to the sensor controls to oblige. This wasn’t their usual sort of call out; more used to disasters of nature than physics, but at least the right man was in the right place – Brains was perfectly suited to this sort of problem. John couldn’t quite get the detail he needed from his geosynchronous orbit above the island, so a few bursts of the thrusters had the station drifting into position in the region of New  Genovea . Above the island was home port for him, and it was nice to change the view every so often even though it took some doing to avoid detection from the world’s tracking beacons that would be very interested to know where he was.

“Bad news, the gravity well is still active. And it’s growing” he said, frowning at his readouts. 

A shock ran through the station and John instinctively grabbed for a console even though there would be no falling books or spilled drinks, no danger of losing footing he wasn’t _on._ The latch holding the auxiliary power panel failed though, the cover clattering open. He’d been meaning to fix that.

Red warning lights flushed across the status panel for pressure, orbit and velocity. 

“John, scan the area overhead for any potential hazards.” Brains asked.

“How far up?” He replied, half a mind on the task and half a mind on firing up his maneuvering thrusters again.

“All the way.”

With a sinking feeling John knew what he would find.

“It’s clear up to twelve thousand meters, but there is a station caught in the gravity well in the upper atmosphere.” John said, completely honestly, trying to keep his voice calm amid his frantic attempts to  _ move the damn station. _

“Occupied?”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” said Scott, who was on audio only at the moment. “Can they evacuate or move out the way?”

EOS had run the simulations without having to be asked, and the data danced at his fingertips,  glimmered out of the corner of his eye.

“Insufficient engine power to leave the well, and any attempts to bail out  \- ” He paused. “You can pretty much guess what happens to a person entering the upper atmosphere unprotected.” Because Thunderbird Five was no longer a comfortable one million feet above sea level, and as good as his uniform was it was made to insulate him from the vacuum of space. He might as well be in t-shirt and shorts for all the good it would do him if he was foolish enough to test it against the friction of the atmosphere.

“Get in touch then John, tell them we are on the case.”

“Will do.” John flicked the comm to mute for a moment, and ran his hands over his face.

“Are you not going to tell them?” EOS asked.

“They don’t need the distraction right now.”

“I think they would want to know.” She said sullenly, rebellion in her circuits.

* * *

“Scott.”

“What is it EOS?” Scott was used to John popping in whenever he liked, and now EOS was taking after her creator, the white ring of her lights floating right in his field of vision.

“You need to speak directly to John.”

“I was just speaking to him, we’re all a bit busy right now.”

“You need to speak to him. He doesn’t want to and I can’t make him, but it’s important.” John wouldn’t like it, but she did it anyway.

“About what?”

“You’ll see as soon as you see him.” 

* * *

Scott saw.

Scott quirked an eyebrow at the red glow suffusing John’s holographic image. Not the calming cool blue they were used to, but the harsh furnace of danger. John would only look like that if he had multiple warnings going off on the station itself. Something Scott wouldn’t have known on an audio only call.  _ Thank you EOS.  _

“John. What’s going on up there?”

John sighed. “Did EOS tell you to call? She did, didn’t she.”

“John, tell me why you have so many red lights.” From the set of John’s jaw Scott knew his brother was going to try to minimise, distract or delay. “John.” He warned again.

“I’m the station that’s being pulled out of orbit.” John confessed.

Of course. Scott tried not to grind his teeth out of frustration. Could they never catch a break? “Shit. And you didn’t tell us this because?”

“I didn’t want to distract you all unnecessarily.”

That enraged Scott, more than the thought of his brother  plummeting from the sky. John was a strong  proponent of only giving enough information to do the job in front of them, and that too much would be a distraction. Usually that worked like a charm as John sifted data  tirelessly on their behalf. However, Scott was tired of having to drag out the details that John thought were  superfluous . Tiny, insignificant details like this.

“Come off it, John! We want to know when you’re in danger. More danger than usual anyway.” 

John managed to look sheepish and unapologetic at the same time. Scott would make sure they discussed this properly later.  _ He hoped there was a later.  _

"It would only be an unnecessary distraction.”

“No. It’s critical information. It’s a distraction when I have to check up on you every five minutes because you won’t tell me a damn thing about what’s going on with you.” Scott took a steadying breath to reign himself in. “What are our contingencies?”

“There are no contingencies.”

“There are always contingencies. Can I catch you in Thunderbird One like I did the plane?”

“You are joking right? Thunderbird Five  \- or whatever parts of it that will be intact at an altitude you can fly – is way too massive for that. It would pull you down like a rock.”

“The space elevator? Can you use it  an escape capsule?” Scott suggested. He could see John thinking, working it out, fingers flying as he did the calculations.

“ _ If  _ it survives reentry, it’s going to be going too fast for you attach and tow. You’re margin of error is going to be in the microseconds otherwise it’s going to be another  crater in the mountains of Europe.”

“Then we need to have come up with another plan.” With EOS he might be able to make the shot with the grapples to save the space elevator from becoming one with the  scenery , but he wanted to make that a last resort.

“We have a plan: Brains is going to stop the Supreme Hadron Collider physically.” John said, yet another red light illuminating his image. “That’s still the best option.”

“I’ll tell the others.” Said Scott, taking control of the situation, knowing that John still might not be totally honest if it were left up to him. “You hang tight.”

* * *

“Hang tight.” John muttered to himself. “Easy. Just hang tight.” He dragged himself hand over hand back towards the secondary control station – the one that was bolted to the side of the room instead of the one hanging in the  centre that was designed to be accessed when in zero-g. The secondary panel wasn’t configured how he liked it, but it would do at a pinch and as it was the only one he could currently reach it would have to do.

Arms  straining he hauled himself into position, taking frantic glances at the displays. He’d lost  another five percent of his altitude in the last five minutes, sweeping around the invisible whirlpool of artificially created gravity.

“EOS, are you fully backed up?”

“I have performed my daily download to Tracy Island as usual.”

“Excellent.” John grit his teeth as the station suddenly shuddered again, throwing him across the console, the steel digging into his hip.  _ Great, more bruises. _ He had already been flung from one side of the station to the other several times – he was counting himself lucky that there hadn’t been any broken bones. Ribs didn’t count. Neither did the slow  trickle of blood working  it’s way down his face courtesy of an awkward meeting of skull and  bulkhead .

Yet another alarm started blaring, reverberating through his already ringing head. Heat sensors were picking up the increase in hull  temperature. John silenced it, not needing the to be told that the friction of the station sliding into the atmosphere was going to destroy the protective plating and rip Five apart at the seams. 

There was a constant juddering, like riding a  bicycle along old cobblestones,  rattling his teeth. The scream of metal twisting and warping echoed oddly from the corridors, structure failing under stresses it was never designed to face. A feint feeling of air across his cheek, a breeze where there was meant to be no breeze, promised that his perfectly controlled environment had already been breached. 

“John, oxygen levels are fluctuating. You need to put on your helmet and get to the space elevator while systems are still operational.”

That was the last option, the worst option, the one that had the slimmest chance of saving his skin. The one that  _ might _ save his skin, but would do nothing for his station.

Thunderbird Five was a marvel of modern engineering. It had saved hundreds if not thousands of lives. It pushed the boundaries of Earth and space monitoring. It was the cornerstone of International Rescue operations. It was his home. Getting in that space elevator would be like giving up on it and Tracy’s had a hard time quitting.

“Not yet. I might still be able to - “

“There’s nothing you can do,”  EOS cut in. “It’s all in Brains’ hands now. And if you are to eject in the space elevator at the optimum altitude you need to enter into it soon.”

_ Don’t think of it as giving up,  _ he told himself,  _ you’re just  _ _ enacting _ _ the  _ _ back up _ _ plan. Do what is necessary, even if you don’t like it. _

Only now he might have left it a bit late. 

The space elevator was at the other end of the command room, a room that was now tilted more than  forty five degrees from the horizontal. What should be easy access would now be a hard climb, the walls not really designed with hand and toe holds in mind. He started to plot out his route, figuring out what he could reach and where he would have to avoid the jets of super-heated coolant that were discharging across the room. 

Arms and legs bracing against the twisting of machine against planet he tried to block out the shrieking and  crashing from somewhere deep within the station: another piece of him tattered and torn. 

* * *

“We don’t have time for debate, we’ve got to do something fast!” Gordon ground out. John was up there counting on them, counting on _him._ How often was Gordon the one relying on his big brother, waiting for him to drop the perfect nugget of information, the precise insight he needed to swoop in, get people or himself out of trouble and be the hero? Every damn day, that’s how often. Gordon didn’t exactly like being at the other end of that particular safety line, having one of his family be depending on _him_ for their survival.    
  
He didn’t like it, but like hell was he going to let John down. He was sure that Brains and Moffy were putting forward some great, well thought out, ground breaking suggestions but John was up there, getting closer by the second. Peer-reviewed and tested hypothesis had their time and place, but it was not now.

“Maybe this will work.” He muttered, reaching for what he still thought of as torpedoes controls. They weren’t weapons of course, usually used for removing debris or making emergency exits where there were none. They would probably do for this. He pressed the button before anyone could stop him.

As expected very expensive debris flew everywhere, and somewhat  surprisingly he wasn’t  immediately consumed in a giant fireball. The whipping circles of metal that were the visible part of the  Collider slowed from their frantic pace. A few seconds  ago the chain of Thunderbirds that had been dangling him like bait on a hook had been fighting for every inch of height, but with considerably less resistance they shot into the air.

“Did it work?” Alan asked hesitantly.

“It’s worked for us, I’m turning down the engines, full thrust no longer required.” Virgil put in.

“John?” Scott asked, on the borderline of demanding, and it was only those who knew him well that would be able to tell it was concern that made him sharp.

Gordon waited out the crackle of static impatiently as he was pulled back into Thunderbird Two.

“The gravity well has  dissipated , normal gravity is restored. Returning Thunderbird Five to  orbital altitude.” John said loud and clear but sounding a little shaken.

“Is it all good up there?”

“There’s going to be a few repairs, and I’m not taking my helmet off for now but I think we’re stable enough. EOS will make sure we are.”

“And you?”

Gordon thought they would get an ‘I’m fine’ in his ‘brushing over things voice’ that John didn’t think he had, but there was a bit more honesty today.

“Some bruises, and my ribs don’t feel so hot, but nothing urgent.”

“Alright. I  want a full report on Five and you to have a full medical asap. Understood?” Scott didn’t wait for a reply. “And Gordon good work, but please don’t blow anything else up without warning us first, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Gordon grinned, and gave a low effort salute that Scott would be able to feel even if he couldn’t see it. “Whatever you say.” He’d do what he had to, that was always their way. 


End file.
